XVII.
When the time came for the children to part, André was overcome in a manner which seemed incompatible with his nature, so ordinarily tranquil. The father and daughter returned alone, and lived afterward with no other company than themselves. They felt no need to seek their diversion among their neighbors. The simple ties of friendship or convenience to them were unnecessary, and the organist preserved with the outside world only the acquaintance that strict politeness demanded.
Paganina's affection increased daily. A profound sentiment without display, and only recognizable by certain mute signs that might have escaped an indifferent eye. Her father, however, could not be deceived.
So these two beings were never separated. They worked together; the organist conducted his daughter into the highest regions of music, and was astonished, in teaching her, to discover horizons hitherto unknown. Paganina made wonderful progress.
Those who find in art their happiness in this world, and seek the depths of those mysterious tongues of which so many speak and know nothing—those alone can form an idea of the happy moments passed in their solitude.
At times these two souls rose together, mounted even to the pure heights where, to those who attain to them, is given a supernatural felicity.
To these joys Paganina aspired with an immoderate ardor; but in attaining them she experienced a reaction of extreme sadness. This disquieted her father; so, in the language of parable which he liked to use, and which sometimes proved more original than gracious, he said, "My daughter, my daughter, drink with precaution; at the bottom of the purest streams are hidden the most dangerous reptiles. Be prudent, or you will swallow the leech. There is only one fountain to quench your thirst, and where, with your impetuous humor, you may drink with safety: it is that which gushes toward eternal life."
To Be Continued.